


The Price

by non_sequential



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_sequential/pseuds/non_sequential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to Point Blank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price

Grace was fourteen years old, and she had just done a First Aid course in Girl Scouts. One of her friends had panicked and run off, the other had managed to call the paramedics. She had pulled Mozzie up out of the blood that had pooled on the bench and cascaded down onto the sidewalk. She had taken off her jacket and pushed with all her might against the wound, except for when she stopped once a minute to give him a breath. Her breath.

Neal slipped into the cubicle he thought she might be in, waiting for her parents to pick her up. She was sitting on the side of the bed, legs dangling over the side. She looked about ten. Her knuckles were white from clutching the mattress.

“Grace?” She jumped, startled. Must have been off in her own world. Or in the park.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want?” She was watching his hands, not his face. She must have been giving some thought to why a man had been shot in the chest in a public place, yet still had his wallet on him. Smart kid.

“My name’s Neal.” He held his hands out at his sides, palms open and facing her. “I’m- He’s my best friend.” It was such a ridiculous, childish term to use. Children sometimes had a knack for cutting straight to the heart of things. “I wanted to say thank you. If it wasn’t for you-”

“They said they weren’t sure whether he’d make it. I couldn’t do mouth to mouth and keep pressure on the wound at the same time and Keisha was having hysterics just from being on the phone to the paramedics. I couldn’t- And there was so much blood-”

“Hey. He’s not dead yet. We’ll take those odds. He’s- You might not think so to look at him, but he’s surprisingly resilient.”

She nodded slowly. “Someone tried to kill him.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Are you going to stop doing whatever you’re doing?”

She was looking at him intently. Her hair was probably extremely trendy when it wasn’t clumped with sweat and Mozzie’s blood. Her eyeliner and mascara had run, and she hadn’t managed to wash all of it off. There were still little smears on her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

"I thought it was the right thing to do.” He’d thought he had nothing left to lose. “Now I’m not sure. I, um. I need to go. People tend to misinterpret older guys talking to teenage girls, you know? But if- when. When Moz wakes up, I’m going to tell him he got the kiss of life from a pretty girl. It’ll make his day.”

She smiled at him, wobbly but genuine. “I hope your friend’s OK.”

“Me too.” His smile was probably as wobbly as hers. “Thank you.”

When he got back to Moz’s room the nurse had finished doing whatever she had been doing so he sat down in the seat next to the bed and started thinking about Moz and Kate and Fowler, and Peter and Elizabeth. And revenge, and what he was prepared to pay to get it.


End file.
